This passed Summer, one of my favourite chicken establishments closed their doors for good. At the height of the pandemic and with businesses not able to run at their regular capacity, with bills piling up and no real end in sight, they were faced with the painful decision of letting it go. Over the years, I’d gotten to know some of the staff; good, hard working people with families and dreams. One waitress worked four jobs to help put her through school. Her ultimate dream was to be a nurse. I had heard rumours of its shutdown and ultimate demise and when the rumours became reality, it was sad to drive by and see the old place in darkness. Sadder still was the fact that this particular franchise in the chain was the ONLY one on Vancouver Island and I would no longer be able to enjoy their delicious rotisserie chicken and life-changing french fries. Now, I’m not going to name this restaurant, but I think from my description and my little story here today, you’ll likely be able to come up with a guess. Like they say, “if you know, you know.”
Part of the sadness for this loss comes from the memories that are attached to it. Growing up, Sunday’s were somewhat of an institution. My family would get up early to start a day full of gatherings. My sister and I would get dressed in our “Sunday best”, complete with pantyhose, patent leather dressy shoes, a dress or skirt (never pants) and our hair would be neatly brushed and likely tied back. Wardrobe would be completed by our Bible, usually in a nicely kept case with a handle that we could carry around like a small purse. We would add a pen, a notepad and a little box of tic tacs and we were all set to go.
The day would start with Sunday school. That would be an hour of just kids your age learning about all the cool stories in the Bible: Noah, Moses, Esther, and many others. We would practice looking for scripture in the Bible and memorizing important verses (that coincidentally I can still recall to this day when I need them). It was fun and there would always be some treat at the end; maybe a sticker, prize or candy treat. From there, we would meet up with our parents and attend “regular” church. That was the more formal service in the BIG sanctuary. The service would start with prayer and then we’d sing songs from the hymn book and maybe a few worship choruses. The Pastor would get up and read from the Bible and apply it to our lives by way of a sermon. It was our responsibility to behave, sit still and show respect. This would be the part where the packed notepad, pen & tic tacs would come in very handy that we had placed in our Bible case earlier in the morning. Sister and I would probably play hangman in the pew, draw pictures or pass notes back and forth to each other. Then we’d do that all again in the evening for a 6pm service. And as boring as it was to me back then, I always remember church being a good experience and something that we never missed.
At the end of the morning sermon, we would pray and close in an ending hymn, probably the doxology. My parents were very social people and always had a heart for connecting with others. When we would exit the sanctuary and visit with others in the foyer, there was usually a connection with another family or couple and a plan to head for lunch together. This was my favourite part of the day! The restaurant was always the same; this glorious chicken joint. We used to call it “Christian Chicken” because it seemed like all the church-goers had the same idea. When we’d arrive to be seated, you’d run in to at least half a dozen other families from church who were doing the same thing. It always felt like some kind of fun party! My sister and I would order Shirley Temples. The glass would come out with a tiny plastic sword across the top with a maraschino cherry & a slice of orange skewered through it. We felt so fancy! We would sit and colour our kids menu placemat and listen to the conversation and laughter of our parents and friends. It was the best!
Isn’t it amazing how something can bring you right back to a memory in your life that feels so sweet? So meaningful? When I take a moment to ponder these things, to write them down like this, it stirs in my spirit such a deep sense of gratitude for precious memories. You know, in life we are faced with so many trials and complications. Daily we choose to pick up and keep going. The weight of life can seem so heavy and hard to bare. But I imagine if we take a few moments to ponder on the memories of our past, we can tap into the joy and hope that comes from recalling the good times. Hey, can I challenge you today? Take a moment to think back on a time in your life where you truly felt happy. It could be something from your childhood, graduating from College/University, your first child, an amazing vacation. Sit in that memory for a while and recall the smells, the sounds, the laughter, the feeling. Receive the joy you feel with a spirit of gratitude for the memory and then thank God for making that a part of your story.
Thanks for indulging me in this delicious memory. I hope you’ve enjoyed. Don’t forget to live a life of gratitude for what you have. As big or as small as that is, your heavenly Father loves you and will only give you good things.
Blessings,
April
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PS – Do you have a memory you’d like to share? Send me a message or comment below so we can sit in your memories for a moment or two and enjoy with you
Photos courtesy of pexels.com
Embrace The Delay 